


The Very Hungry Sehlat

by Joules Mer (joulesmer)



Series: Strange Courage [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Baby Kirk-McCoy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joulesmer/pseuds/Joules%20Mer
Summary: Bedtime stories with Uncle Spock





	The Very Hungry Sehlat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MidArmJewel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidArmJewel/gifts), [Inuhime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inuhime/gifts), [zonya35](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zonya35/gifts).



> This wasn’t an intended part of the series, but it goes with Fatherhood, Under Duress and is both a thank you to everyone who left comments so far, and for MidArmJewel, Inuhime, and zonya35 who commented that they’d like to read this particular book...

_Two days old_

“The Very Hungry Sehlat, by Evekh Karl. Published stardate 2225.53, San Francisco, California. Canis Major Press, a division of…”

“You don’t need to read that part, Spock.” Leonard’s interjection was soft; the doctor stretched out on a biobed with a blanket carefully tucked around his thin frame.

Spock looked up and found the other man’s eyes alert, despite the dark circles bruising the skin underneath. “On the contrary, doctor, your son should always be informed regarding the source of information he is presented with.” When Leonard didn’t object further, the Vulcan bent his head back to the book and continued, “A division of Koss-Anderson-T’Shar Publishing. Third edition. Also available in Vulcan, High Vulcan, and Andorian.”

Flipping a page, Spock appeared to take a moment to ground himself before he began, _“In the light of the moon, on the still-warm stone of the desert, a little sehlat slumbered and dreamed of all the things he liked to eat. The morning sun crested Mount Gol, glancing off the orange rock and waking the sehlat. He stretched his back and shook his mane and ran his tongue over the tips of his fangs. He waited. And waited. And when the sun was high over The Forge and no one had appeared with his breakfast, he started looking for some food._

_He found a plomeek plant and nibbled at its tender roots, but he was still hungry._

_Venturing further onto the plain, the little sehlat found a vine covered in plump, green hirat and ate two of them, but he was still hungry._

_The sun was high and thirst rose in his throat. Lumbering further along the plain, he found three ripe soltar fruit. Their thick red skin split easily under his fangs and he swallowed all the juice as he spat out the stones one, two, three; but he was still hungry._

_A khara bush rustled in the breeze and he pounced, chewing the soft edible pulp of its four stalks and savoring the salty sweetness… but he was still hungry._

_The bright yellow-red of yon-savas, the fire fruit, caught his eye. He’d never eaten one before, but gobbled up one, two, three, four, five so quickly he’d swallowed them all down before he recognized the sensation of heat on his tongue. They were **spicy**._

_Bleating in surprise, he fled towards the village, racing past startled elders to leap through an open doorway and into a kitchen, upending a pot of bertakk soup warming on the stove. There was a pitcher of theris-masu cooling on the table and he knocked off the lid with a quick swipe of his paw in order to gulp down the tea, soothing his sore mouth._

_Feeling a little better, he looked around the room. His stomach rumbled._

_He ate the bertakk soup._

_He ate the platter of kreila, cooling on the counter._

_He ate the gespar, klitanta k'forati-mun, and boiled mashya._

_And all the plomeek. Every last morsel._

_The little sehlat made such a noise in the kitchen it attracted attention. “Oh no!” cried the Vulcan children, as they leapt into the room, “We forgot to feed our little sehlat, and now he has eaten everything in our kitchen!”_

_“He’s not a little sehlat,” observed the eldest, “He’s a fat sehlat now.”_

_“Will he fit back through the door?” wondered the middle child._

_“I think he has a stomach ache,” said the youngest, as the sehlat gave a groan and rolled onto his back._

_The sehlat did indeed have a stomach ache, and growled when the children tried to come near. “It’s okay,” said the eldest, “he’s just unhappy. He was so hungry he ate too much. It’s our fault he’s sick.”_

_They poured a bucket of fresh water for the sehlat and gathered favinit blossoms to settle its stomach. By the next morning the animal was feeling much better, and the Vulcan children didn’t forget to feed their sehlat again._

Spock closed the book and set it on the bedside table. The room was quiet. He carefully leaned over the bassinet next to the bed: wide blue eyes blinked back at him. From the biobed, Leonard gave a soft snore.

 

_One month old_

The sound was too soft for ordinary human ears, but not for a Vulcan. Spock paused in the corridor and tilted his head, mentally triangulating the source: Doctor McCoy’s quarters. Until recently, rarely used, but now converted to a more infant-friendly space than the captain’s suite. It was crying Spock could just hear through the door, despite the soundproofing. 

After a moment of indecision, he turned and pressed the chime.

There was a muffled,“ _Oh, goddamn it._ Enter!” before the door slid open.

Stepping just inside the room so that the door would shut behind him, Spock took in the other occupants. McCoy: haggard, hair in disarray, a wailing baby held to his chest as he walked from one side of the room to the other, the jiggling of his arms doing nothing to calm the situation.

“Is he well, doctor?”

“Scanner says so.” McCoy executed an about face and stopped in the middle of the room, shifting his weight from side to side as he gently bounced Christopher, “Could be colic, but I hate to dose him with something when he’s still growing so fast. There’s just too much I don’t know here…”

The baby’s face was so screwed up the blue eyes that clearly proclaimed Jim as his other parent were largely hidden. Small lips trembled as Christopher gasped a breath, then wailed with renewed vigor. Spock’s gaze followed the other man, noting the twitch in McCoy’s right eye that betrayed how long he’d been without sleep.

“Perhaps I could be of service. My need for rest is considerably less than yours, doctor.” He bit off _particularly now_ , knowing the observation of McCoy’s still frail state would not be appreciated. Sleep-addled, the doctor didn’t seem able to understand what was being offered, merely raising an eyebrow as he continued his side-to-side swaying. That alone convinced the Vulcan he was doing the right thing; stepping further into the room, he offered, “If there is nothing you, specifically, can do, then perhaps Christopher could remain with me while you rest.”

“Are you trying to tell me I need some sleep?”

“I am not trying; I believe I have effectively communicated that sentiment.”

Leonard’s brows knit together, his habitual desire to resist the Vulcan’s suggestion warring with how his son’s cries were ringing in his ears. Christopher arched his back, somehow increasing in volume even though he was _surely_ exhausted; with that, Leonard utterly capitulated, posture sagging as he nodded.

Christopher’s wailing barely paused as he was handed over to the Vulcan. Leonard dropped a quick kiss on the baby’s head, too tired to do more than stumble his way to the door, nearly hitting the frame as he rounded the corner into the corridor.

Spock waited until the door had closed behind the doctor, then brought his hand up to gently brush against psi points as he murmured, “Now, ashal-veh, what is wrong?” A mild impression of discomfort, frustration, exhaustion-- nothing more. Leonard’s diagnosis of colic appeared correct. He brushed the baby’s forehead, trying to convey a sense of peace and calm in return.

Christopher paused mid-wail and hiccoughed, looking from side to side as if suddenly realizing he was no longer being held by his father. Spock settled on the sofa with Christopher, rubbing the baby’s back in firm circles before the wailing could start anew. From memory, he began to recite, “The Very Hungry Sehlat, by Evekh Karl. Published stardate 2225.53, San Francisco, California. Canis Major Press, a division of…”

 

_Two years old_

“Sellit!”

“Would you not prefer…” Reaching for another book, Spock didn’t manage to finish the sentence.

“Sellit!’ 

Nyota suppressed a smile as she looked between her partner and her godson. Christopher’s gaze was unwavering, lower lip jutting out as his eyebrows drew together in an expression that was all McCoy. Lightly trailing a hand over her partner’s shoulders, she gently said, “I guess that’s decided, Spock.”

Crossing his legs as he sat on the floor, the Vulcan waited until the toddler attempted to imitate the posture before he started, “The Very Hungry Sehlat, by Evekh Karl. Published stardate 2225.53, San Francisco, California. Canis Major Press, a division of…”

Nyota bent down and dropped a kiss onto smooth black hair as she whispered, “Don’t forget to do the voices.”

 

_Six years old_

Spock raised an eyebrow as a tattered book was held in front of him. “This is below your reading level, and you have been able to recite the story from memory for several years.”

“Please, Uncle Spock?”

“There are, additionally, several inaccuracies that have given you an erroneous perception of Vulcans.” Christopher crossed his arms and Spock, recognizing the gesture, clarified, “There are several passages that are not correct.”

The boy frowned for a moment before his expression lightened and he suggested, “Maybe you should read it so you can point out what’s wrong?”

Spock tilted his head to one side: the child’s logic was sound. He flipped open the book, careful to support where the spine was nearly worn through, “The Very Hungry Sehlat, by Evekh Karl. Published stardate 2225.53, San Francisco, California. Canis Major Press, a division of…”

Christopher pulled his feet up onto the sofa, leaning into his godfather’s side. Without pausing, Spock shifted to better allow the contact; as the Vulcan allowed his mind to open, a wave of calm and contentment flowed from the boy.

“...The little sehlat made such a noise in the kitchen it attracted attention.” Spock stopped and indicated the next passage. “Here, for instance: the Vulcan children would not leap, and that is not how they would express that particular sentiment. They would say,” Spock paused, sharing a glace with Christopher before clearing his throat and pitching his voice into a familiar, childish tone as he said, “Ak'wikman!”

“Ak’wikman?”

“Yes, but with more stress on the first syllable. Try again.”

Hovering in the doorway, Jim held a finger to his lips and motioned for Leonard to quietly join him. Tiptoeing closer, the doctor’s frown softened when he caught sight of the impromptu Vulcan lesson taking place on their sofa. 

Pulling his husband close to his side, Jim pressed a kiss to the few strands of grey at Leonard’s temple. Nose brushing the curve of an ear he whispered, “Looks like Spock has things covered. Can I take you to lunch?”

Leonard turned in the embrace and raised an eyebrow, “With him babysitting, Jim, you can take me to dinner too.” The doctor cast a fond glance at the pair on the sofa as his husband gently guided him towards the door, muttering to himself, “They’ll be absorbed for hours.”

**********

**********

_With a huge thank you to Revenge-Leader1 for the illustration._


End file.
